


It's Whatever

by runningwafers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is done, Canon Compliant, Casual Sex, Civil War (Marvel), Coming Out, Deleted Scenes, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Missing Scene, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sam is done, lots of scowling and smirking, unrequited Steve/Bucky if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6902218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningwafers/pseuds/runningwafers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky can't tell if he hates Sam, he likes Sam, or he wants to fuck Sam. Maybe it's a little bit of all three.</p><p>(Follows Civil War canon. Bucky POV.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Whatever

Bucky doesn't mean to be jealous of Sam. He doesn't, even if Sam is kind of an asshole and he doesn't understand how or why Steve decided this pain in the ass in a bird costume deserves to be his number two. But whatever.

It's just, Bucky’s always kind of defined himself as Steve’s best friend. Somebody to make sure he ate right and had the cash to pay for his medicine and patch him up after he got into fights. Even during the war, after Steve got big and could take care of himself, he still needed his number two, and Bucky was happy to fill that role. Now he doesn't know who he is anymore, not really, and seeing someone else in that role, well, where does that leave him? It's not like Bucky expects Steve _not_ to have friends and allies in the future, he's not unreasonable, but… why does it have to be Sam Wilson?

“We can't just steal any car, I'm not going to ruin someone's day and mess up their life like that,” Steve is saying. They need a getaway car, and Bucky had very reasonably suggested a nondescript blue Chevy with no anti-theft devices or GPS tracking, but of course Steve wanted to do things the ‘right’ way.

“What, you wanna go to Hertz?” Sam replies. “‘One getaway car for three superhero fugitives, please,’” he drawls. “I don't think that's gonna work, man.”

“If we're gonna steal, let’s at least get one from a dealership,” Steve says. “We can pay for it later.”

Sam and Bucky both agree to the plan, though Bucky privately thinks it's a waste of time. They stop at the first dealership they find, which has a wide array of used cars.

“Alright, Cap, you know how to hotwire a car, right?”

“You're gonna make _me_ steal it?”

“A black dude and,” Sam looks at Bucky, “whatever this is?” Bucky scowls. “Think blonde-haired, blue-eyed and earnest is the way to go.”

Steve agrees and takes off while Bucky and Sam stand guard. The used lot is in the back, away from the main dealership, so there's not really a lot to worry about. Even Steve should be able to manage this level of covert operation.

“So,” Sam starts. “You used to the future yet? Must be weird wakin’ up and suddenly there’s color TV, next time there's the internet.”

“You know, I didn't really get a chance to pay attention to that kind of thing with all the brainwashing,” Bucky answers flatly.

“Right, right,” Sam answers. “But you've been awake and aware for awhile now. Got any thoughts?”

Bucky kicks at the gravel beneath them. “Maybe I'll have more opinions on that when I'm not running for my life, for once.”

“Uh huh.”

Bucky squints up at the sun. “Clothes aren't made as well,” he finally answers. “Not as durable.”

“You can thank globalization and capitalism for that.” Bucky has never heard the term ‘globalization,’ so he says nothing. “That all you got? What have you even been doing since we saw you last? You know, when you punched through my windshield and ripped the steering wheel from my hands and knocked me out of the sky and--”

“Trying to remember,” Bucky interjects.

“--just recently, you picked me up by my face and threw me across the room--”

“I get it,” Bucky growls, but he doesn't offer an apology.

“Look, man, you know I don't blame you for that shit, right?” Sam says. “I wouldn't be here if I thought you should be held responsible for your actions as the Winter Soldier. You were a POW, it ain't your fault, and I know you dealing with a lot of shit. It’s my job to help vets process trauma, and I’ve been through, it get it, but,” he pauses, looking up, “dude, like 90% of my interaction with you so far has been you trying to murder me and my friends, and it's a little hard to just move past that.”

Bucky kicks at the gravel again. “Yeah.” He looks across the dealership and he can't see Steve anymore, and he thinks he might punch a wall if he gets into trouble stealing a car from a lot. It's not like they need more shit to deal with, and this should not be a difficult task. Last time they were on the run, he saw Steve steal a car with a driver _in it_. “You know,” he says absently. “Sometimes I actually long for the easy, carefree times during the Second World War.”

“You longin’ for the good ol’ days, right?”

“Things were more straightforward back then--”

“When men were men and guys like me couldn't go to school with guys like you--”

“--we had a common enemy, and the only people I'd killed were Nazis or HYDRA--”

“--and marriage was just between a man and a woman for the purpose of raising children…”

That gives Bucky pause. “Don't put words in my mouth,” he sputters.

“I'm just saying, man, Steve’s a great dude and I love him, but he’s got some old-fashioned ideas sometimes, and you gotta have them, too. Hard to just eliminate all that deeply-ingrained prejudice just like that.”

Bucky can't exactly argue with that. It's hard not to find it a little surprising to see women in government, mixed-race couples going about like it’s nothing, or men being romantically affectionate with each other in public. “Not like everybody back then was all the same, though,” he argues. “Not every man dreamt of a wife and kids in the suburbs.”

Sam smirks. “Heard you were a real ladies’ man back in the day, though. You ever think you'd settle down? You dream of a nice little house and family next to Steve’s after the war or what?”

‘Or what?,’ ain't that the question? Bucky's remembered enough to know he was terrified of what he'd do with his life after the war if he'd survived. “I don't know,” he says honestly. Damn, what is taking Steve so long? Should they check on him?

“You don't know, alright, ladies’ man.” Bucky glares at him. “I've seen your Smithsonian exhibit and heard Steve’s stories, know you were a good ol’ boy.” Bucky doesn't know exactly what that means, but he's not happy with the implication either way. “Bet you wanted to get yourself a nice wife and stable job and--”

That's it. Bucky is sick and tired of people deciding who he is and who he isn't, and he's not about to take it from _Sam fucking Wilson,_ supposed best friend of Steve Rogers.

He leans toward Sam, wraps his metal arm around the back of his head, and pulls him into a harsh kiss. It’s meant for shock value, but he's not going to give Sam the satisfaction of pulling away immediately, so he gives himself into it. It's been a damn long time since he's kissed another man, maybe since before the war, and he can't help the small moan that escapes as he feels the warm press of Sam's lips against his own. It's hard to gauge Sam's reaction. He's not exactly kissing back but he's not exactly _not_ , either, which catches Bucky by surprise. He presses his flesh hand against Sam's hip, because he's not joking about this. This isn't the first time he's kissed a man, and he wants Sam to feel it.

Eventually, Bucky's the one to pull away, fixing Sam with a hard stare. “I am _not_ a ‘ladies’ man.’”

Sam quickly wipes the shock off of his face. “Okay, damn,” he says, sounding just a little breathless. “Was that your first kiss since 1945?”

Bucky shoves him so hard he hits the gravel, right as a dark blue VW Bug pulls up next to them. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Bucky mutters.

“The hell is this?” Sam asks, getting up and brushing himself off. “You know we're fully grown men, right?”

“Did I see you hit Sam?” Steve asks through the window.

Bucky scowls, just barely covering his smile, and lets himself into the back seat.

\-----

So Steve's kissing Sharon. Bucky has to admit, the girl’s got balls to go against her organization to steal confiscated equipment and aid wanted fugitives. He's grateful for her help, but seeing Steve not completely inept with a woman is… an experience. Aside from Peggy, who clearly took the initiative in that relationship, Bucky's never witnessed a successful romantic interaction involving Steve.

He shoots him a grin and a nod when he catches his eye after they pull apart. “Good for him,” he says aloud.

“So it ain't like that with you and Steve?” Sam asks from the front seat. “Cause I gotta admit, your entire history would make a lot more sense…”

“Steve ain't like that and we don't need to talk about it,” Bucky interjects firmly. He's not going down that line of thinking.

“Okay, but like, how many times has that dude risked his life to help or save you at this point? Gone against governments, his closest friends? He'd do that for a bro? Whole thing makes more sense if,” he pauses, “you know.”

“It ain't like that,” Bucky repeats. “It's never been and it never will be. Besides, he's like my brother. Our relationship…” he doesn't quite know how to put it. “We're good the way it is.” He finds he means it.

“You know, the first time I met Cap, I was 90% sure he was hitting on me.”

That startles a laugh out of Bucky. “Story of my life, pal,” he says, and he gets out of the car.

Sharon and Steve are talking as Sharon hands over the equipment. She pulls out a black duffle and holds it out to Bucky.

“Figured maybe you didn't wanna do this in jeans and a henley,” she says, smiling.

“You're a doll,” he answers. “Think maybe I'm not supposed to say that anymore, though.”

“I'll try to take it as a compliment,” she says with a blush. It's a Steve kind of reaction, and Bucky thinks they might actually be good for each other.

\-----

Bucky is goddamn tired of people trying to capture and/or kill him. Would it be so hard to just let him rest for awhile? He’s in desperate need of a nap, but instead he’s at an airport trying to take down a kid in spandex who shoots some sort of magic string out of his hands, what the hell is that?

Sam’s had his back in this fight, and it’s hard for Bucky to remember the last time he’s had an ally in battle that wasn’t Steve. It's a strange feeling. They’re not perfectly in sync, but when the kid is about to kick Sam off of a mezzanine, Bucky reacts quickly enough to throw his metal arm in the way and go down with him. They hit the ground, and Bucky almost wishes he could just stay down, because _goddammit_ he is tired. He watches as Sam directs Redwing to attack the kid and chuck him out a window.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” Bucky grumbles.

“I hate you,” Sam replies.

Bucky shakes himself off and stands up, then goes to give Sam a hand up. “You’ve got some gumption to fight without any enhanced healing or abilities like most of the rest of us.”

“You admitting I’m braver and tougher than you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Bucky says, as Sam is chuckling and clapping him on the back.

“C’mon, let’s get Steve and get out of here before anyone gets killed.”

\-----

Bucky finally gets his nap on the plane to Wakanda. It’s a long flight from the middle of the ocean or wherever the hell the rest of Steve’s crew were being held, so there's plenty of time to rest. The whole lot of them are fugitives, technically, and there are many ongoing discussions about what all of them are going to do. Clint and Scott’s involvement wasn’t nearly as publicized or controversial as Steve, Wanda, T’Challa and Sam’s, so they’re going back home, which leaves the rest of them in Wakanda until they can formulate a better plan.

Bucky wakes up somewhere over a wide, flat expanse of land that looks sparsely populated. He doesn't know exactly where they are, and for once he doesn't care. He's safe enough, for now, and he's going to enjoy the opportunity to let his guard down. He looks around the plane and sees Steve and Wanda engaged in what looks to be a serious conversation, and T’Challa is on the phone speaking a language Bucky doesn't understand. Sam is sprawled out across two seats with a blanket, watching something on his laptop with an array of snacks. Bucky gets up and takes a seat across from him.

“You're finally up,” Sam says, taking off his headphones. “You hungry?” He holds up the tray of snacks, and Bucky hesitates just a moment before grabbing a cookie. “You doing okay?” Sam asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Bucky furrows his brow. “Finally being nice to me?”

Sam shrugs. “Well, you did just lose an arm. And not for the first time. Figure you could use a little sympathy. I _am_ a VA counselor, you know.”

Bucky takes a bite of his cookie and chews it slowly. “Hard to imagine anyone feeling too comforted by you,” he says as he swallows.

Sam chucks a chip at him. “Fuck you, man, I'm incredibly sympathetic.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Must be hard losin’ an arm. Your balance okay?”

Bucky shifts in his seat. “It's off. The metal arm was much heavier than my flesh one, so my body kind of compensated. It's weird now.”

“You'll adjust. And if T’Challa’s fancy scientists can't get you a good new arm, I'm sure Stark can whip up something as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”

Bucky stares at him. “He _just_ tried to murder me. Like, yesterday.” He takes another bite of cookie. “Doubt he's gonna be up for helping me anytime soon.”

“Then let's hope T’Challa can help you out. I know he also tried to murder you, like, yesterday, but he seems to have come around.”

“Well, I didn't actually kill his dad. Tony’s, on the other hand…”

“Weren't you friends with Howard?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, sighing. “Not like Steve was, but I knew him, and I was a fan. I was big into technology and science fiction back then. Ironic to think about now. Went to one of Stark’s expos the night before I shipped out.”

Sam considers. “So maybe tell Tony that. Not like you're happy you killed an old friend, right?”

“I'm not _happy_ I killed anyone,” Bucky growls.

“Alright,” Sam says, putting his hand up in a gesture of peace and letting the subject go.

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, and Bucky watches out the window, considering the conversation done.

“Was that your jerkin’ off hand you lost?” Sam asks eventually.

Bucky whips his head around to glare at him. He wants to tell him to fuck off, but instead finds himself answering, “The metal plates have sharp edges. So, you know.” Sam barks out a laugh. “Why, were you fantasizing about how it'd feel wrapped around your dick?”

Sam’s eyes go wide and he throws another chip at him. “Shut up, man.”

Bucky chuckles and continues gazing out the window.

\-----

Bucky doesn't really want to go back under the ice, but he _is_ tired as fuck and he certainly can't deal with killing anymore innocent people, so it seems like the best course of option. Steve and T’challa promise not to keep him under too long, and there are doctors that should be able to help him. He's okay with the plan, overall.

“You nervous?” Sam asks, and Bucky nearly startles. He'd felt someone else in the room, but he hadn't realized it was Sam. He's getting sloppy. “You don't have to go under, you know.”

“I know,” Bucky answers. “But I'm tired.” It's the truth. Somewhere along the line he's developed a feeling of comfort when being on ice. Like nothing bad can happen to him there. (Of course seeing the other winter soldiers frozen with bullets through their heads makes that thought a little less reassuring.)

“You got good people on your side,” Sam says, clapping him on the back. “Maybe there's hope for you yet.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky says, shoving his arm away, and he can _feel_ Sam's smirk behind him even if he can't see it.

“You got any last requests before you go under? ‘Cause, no offense, but you're a little tightly wound. Seems like it might do you some good to relieve some of that tension and get laid or something first.”

Bucky holds back his laugh, because that did not sound subtle. “You offering?”

“I mean, I could be your wingman if you want. Pretty good at it,” he jokes, and Bucky rolls his eyes. “But your options are pretty much Steve, Wanda and T’Challa. And if you don't think Steve's up for it, you're probably just gonna get your ass kicked if you try it with the other two.”

Bucky bites his lip. “If you want to fuck me, you could just ask,” he replies, and it feels good to say it. He's fairly sure he's never once talked openly or jokingly about his sexuality, but it's okay with Sam. Safe.

“I mean…” Sam starts. “I wouldn't exactly say no…”

Bucky stares at him, this time with heat, and assesses Sam's body language. He had to learn to be careful about reading men's intentions back in the day, he's good at it. Sam’s an open book, and he's definitely not kidding around.

Bucky leans in, pulling Sam closer with his flesh hand this time. Sam meets him halfway, and Bucky feels a mountain of tension dissolving as he melts into the kiss. He’s a little pissed that Sam was right. He channels that frustration as he nips at Sam’s lips and shoves him up against the wall. He _does_ need this-- he's pretty sure it's been almost 80 years. (God, that’s pathetic.)

“You wanna do this in here?” Sam asks, pulling away. They’re in the common area off of the guest suites where T’Challa’s put them up, which isn’t exactly private.

“No,” Bucky answers, pushing Sam backward toward the hallway. Sam grins as he pulls Bucky into his room.

Sam knows what he’s doing in bed with a man, and seems surprised that Bucky does, too. Things aren’t really that different from what he remembers, although the smooth slide of real lubricant is an improvement over petroleum jelly.

Sam has Bucky’s left leg propped up over his shoulder, pounding into him, when he asks, “You take it like this back in the day?” His pace is unrelenting.

“Yeah,” Bucky hisses, catching his breath to speak. “Don’t look so surprised, I’ve always been a champ at this.” He shifts his hips and causes Sam to hiss out a sharp moan.

“Fuck,” Sam pants. Bucky shoots him a shit-eating grin. “It’s like that, huh?” He retaliates by hoisting Bucky’s leg up higher, hitting deeper and dragging Bucky's hips up so he's arching his back. Bucky gasps at the new angle and appreciates doing this with someone who has the strength to push him around.

Bucky comes twice, since his super serum gives him the stamina to go as many rounds as he wants. Sam can't quite keep up, and he's a mess by the time they’re done (he suspects he doesn’t look much better, even if he could go again).

“Wow, I guess they knew how to fuck in the thirties,” Sam says in the aftermath, when they’re both sweaty and sated against the sheets. Bucky shoves him, but without his other arm the action throws him off balance and he ends up sprawled into Sam instead. “And so affectionate.”

“Wow, people are still assholes in the future,” Bucky retorts, pulling himself off of Sam and leaning back into his own pillow. “I’m exhausted and--”

“You’re welcome.”

“Shut up.” He rolls out of bed. “‘M gonna shower.”

He's in the bathroom before Sam can respond, and he revels in the swanky accommodations. He's been here for a few days now, but the clean bathrooms and plush towels and array of bath products never seem to lose their charm. He's never in his life been able to pamper himself like this.

When he's clean, he finds a spare bathrobe and makes his way back into Sam's room. He’s lounging on the bed in a robe looking freshly bathed as he watches TV.

“Used your bathroom,” Sam explains. “Since you so rudely took mine.”

Bucky doesn't respond to that. “What are you watching?”

“A movie. They have those in your day? You ever seen one?”

Bucky doesn't admit that he could name every movie he's seen and count them on two hands. Instead, he ignores the cajoling and picks his clothes up off the ground, intending to go back to his own room.

“You wanna watch with me?” Sam asks.

Bucky stares at him for a few seconds. Sam opens his mouth to say something else and Bucky cuts him off with a curt, “Okay.” He sets his clothes in a neat pile and joins Sam on the bed. “Catch me up.”

\-----

Bucky wakes up disoriented, immediately grabbing for the knife under his pillow and finding nothing. He shoots up and blinks, taking in his surroundings. Oh right. He and Sam fucked and then he fell asleep in his room. He hadn't meant to, but the bed was comfortable and, well, whatever.

Sam is dead asleep next to him, and Bucky decides to rest in the quiet for awhile. Today's the day he goes into cryo, and he's not sure he's ready to face it yet.

Eventually, there's a knock at the door, and Bucky doesn't have time to respond before it’s slowly creaking open.

“Sam?” It's Wanda’s voice. “Have you seen Bucky?”

She continues pushing the door open until her head peaks around, and Bucky stares at her, hair askew and obviously shirtless.

“Hey,” he whispers, raising his hand in a weak wave. Sam snores against him.

Her eyes go wide for just a split-second, which Bucky suspects he only notices because he's trained to. “Steve's looking for you,” she whispers. “Um, because you weren't in your room. He wants to make sure you're okay. I'll tell him you're… on your way.” She gives him a small smile and shuts the door before he can respond.

He flops back down onto the bed and hears a groan from Sam.

“Who was that?” Sam mutters against his side.

“Wanda,” Bucky answers, running a hand through his hair and feeling slightly off-balance. “Steve's looking for me.”

“‘S your big day,” Sam says, propping himself up to look at Bucky.

“You gonna miss me? And my fine body?” He gestures at himself.

“Nobody else here to mess around with,” Sam says. “I'm kind of afraid of Wanda and T’Challa.”

“And not me? ‘Cause I could also kick your ass. And I have. On several occasions.”

“No need to remind me.” He stretches, yawns and then says, “You want me to suck your dick?”

He's not going to say no to that. They mess around for awhile until Bucky realizes he ought to go and find Steve. He wants to spend as much time with him as he can before he's frozen. He gets up, haphazardly pulls on his clothes from the day before and heads back to his room.

He's stopped in the hallway by Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says, concern and warmth in his tone because he's so goddamn genuine. “I've been looking for you, are you okay? You didn't sleep in your room.”

Bucky stares at him. He hadn't prepared for this, which is stupid, really. He suspects Steve knows he's not exactly straight, but they've never talked about it, and he's not sure how Steve would react to finding out his two best friends are fucking.

“I, uh, was in Sam's room,” he says blankly. “We were watching movies and I fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Steve says, his face falling slightly. Shit, now he thinks they're hanging out without him. “That's great, I'm glad you got some sleep.”

“We weren't, uh--” He doesn't know how to finish that thought, but he's cut off anyway when Sam (fucking Sam) barrels into the hallway.

“Yo, asshole, you forgot your underwear,” Sam says, tossing the offending garment at Bucky's face. He turns to catch it easily and steps aside to reveal he's talking to Steve.

“Oh,” Sam says, eyes wide. “Hey, Steve. We were just, uh--”

“We were fucking,” Bucky says simply. He doesn't want to lie about this, to make Steve think he’s keeping secrets. It's not the thirties anymore-- people are open about this kind of thing now.

“What?” Steve asks dumbly.

“Man…”

“Sam thought I needed to relieve some tension before I went into cryo so we had sex,” Bucky explains. “It's not a big deal.”

Steve looks at him, processing. “Okay,” he says, his tone betraying no emotion. God, this is awkward.

“Is there breakfast?” Bucky asks, not wanting to dwell on this. It's his last day thawed out, he doesn't want to spend it feeling awkward or tense.

“Yeah, there was,” Steve says, still looking dazed. “Let me see if there's some left over.” He walks toward the common space, leaving Bucky and Sam in the hall.

“So that happened,” Sam says. “Steve even know you're not straight?”

Bucky shrugs. “Does now, anyway. Does he know _you're_ not straight?”

“Haven't exactly been keeping it a secret, but…”

“It's Steve.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

\-----

Steve takes it well. He seems to think that Bucky and Sam are in some sort of relationship now and is overly supportive, which is… yeah.

“So I'm gay, just to be clear,” Bucky says. “I just, I want to be open about that. To you. Before I go under.”

Steve nods despite the crease in his brow. “But you always had a girl on your arm, you were so flirtatious.”

“Yeah, well.”

“You felt like you had to,” Steve supplies. “Yeah, okay. I just never thought about it.” He shakes his head. “I never would have guessed.”

Bucky shrugs. “It's not that important. We have other things to worry about.”

“Right,” Steve says, and they talk for awhile about how long Bucky will be in cryo and how soon doctors will be able to help him. Steve is reluctant to let Bucky do this, but they both understand it’s the right course of action. They've agreed with T’Challa that he won't remain under for more than a month before they check in.

“I hate to see you go when I've just got you back,” Steve says, concern plain on his face. “I've been alone so long--”

“You're not alone. You've got people here, you've got Sam.”

“Don't you feel bad about leaving him? Are you sure you're okay with that?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sam and I had sex _one time_ \--”

“Aw, you gonna miss my ass?” Goddamn Sam always appearing at the most annoying moment possible. “It's a nice ass, I don't blame you. Nicer than Steve's, that's for sure.”

Just throw him in the freezer.

“I think the point of cryo is, you know, to be frozen. I ain't gonna be _missing_ anything other than the passing of time.”

That causes both Sam and Steve to frown. There's more arguing about whether Bucky needs to do this, but Bucky is determined. It's the right thing to do.

\-----

When he wakes up a month later, the first thing he sees is Sam's smug face grinning down at him.

He smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> Civil War got me shipping it. I wanted to include T’Challa since he's kind of central to the plot, but I couldn't nail his voice. Maybe if I write a sequel...


End file.
